


i don’t know why (but it’s got something to do with you)

by ShatterinSeconds



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, hunk and pidge show up too, keith works at hot topic, lance works at lush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 14:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatterinSeconds/pseuds/ShatterinSeconds
Summary: Catching Lance staring, the man lifts a hand to wave, a small smile on his face. It’s adorable and Lance hates it, so he flicks up his middle finger and promptly goes back to restocking the shelves.(a fic somewhat about bath bombs but mostly about two people falling in love)





	i don’t know why (but it’s got something to do with you)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic all started because there was a massive sale online at Hot Topic a few weeks ago and this idea popped into my head. So then it turned into an 8k fic because I have no control. 
> 
> A big thanks to Aliss (mystic_mystic) because it she gave me the encouragement to finish this story. ily<333

Lance will never understand why he always finds himself scowling at the boy who works across the mall.

To be fair, there is quite a lot to dislike about the man. For one, he works at Hot Topic--a store Lance has proudly said he will never venture into, not even on a dare, because he can not be corrupted by the emo-ness that oozes out of that store. Secondly, as Lance realizes he just went on a tangent in his own mind, the worker has a mullet. If this was the 1980s, Lance supposes that that choice in hairstyle would be acceptable, but not today--though there are those odd times where the man sweeps his hair back into a small ponytail and Lance finds himself losing his will to scowl.

It’s something he tries not to dwell on for too long.

There’s a thump on the counter, startling Lance enough to turn away from the view and glance at the customer. A few bath bombs of varying sizes and colors are littered in front of him, and he gingerly picks each one up as he scans them. Part of him wonders if he’s inspecting them for damage, though he knows the bath bombs are in perfect condition.

The other part of him knows this is simply a stalling tactic to prevent himself from staring out the window again when the customer leaves.

“Nice choices here. I’d recommend Twilight any day of the week,” Lance comments as he picks up the starry pink product. A beep from the scanner fills the silence.

“Thanks,” the customer--a girl probably in college and probably the same age as Lance--hesitantly says, tugging at the ends of her dyed blue hair. Her credit card sliding through the machine breaks another bout of silence.

“You’re welcome, and have a nice day,” Lance replies back, handing the shy girl her purchase. Bored, he watches her walk out of the store--though that’s not really where his eyes linger. With his mind’s rebellious nature, they soon find their way to the worker dressing one of the shirt mannequins out in front of Hot Topic.

And God dammit the shirt the man holds in his hands is for Guardians of the Galaxy 2, Lance’s new favorite movie even though it hasn’t premiered yet. He’s been dieing to get a hold of a t-shirt for a while now. Overall, his collection of superhero shirts is severely lacking in, well, shirts, something Pidge teases him about on a daily basis. But it’s absolutely not his fault; he just doesn’t want to get sucked into the black vortex of hell that is Hot Topic. He also doesn’t want his ears assaulted with that God awful music that filters out of the store every once in awhile when someone turns the volume up too loud.

Catching Lance staring, the man lifts a hand to wave, a small smile on his face. It’s adorable and Lance hates it, so he flicks up his middle finger and promptly goes back to restocking the shelves.  

* * *

“Do I have the right to ask what the fuck’s your problem?” the Hot Topic worker grumbles the minute he walks into LUSH and makes a beeline for Lance working at the register.

It’s a new day and the man has his hair down, the ends lightly brushing his shoulders as his body moves with a purpose. Lance bites his lip, controlling the disappointment from appearing on his face. Right now his features have to be a mask of indifference.

Up close, he can easily examine the worker--Lance knows he shouldn’t care about this man’s appearance but somehow the lighting of the store seems to outline him a soft, iridescent glow. Lance can’t tear his gaze away. A few piercings line the cartilage of the worker’s ears and Lance can easily spot black ink of a tattoo curling around his neck and despairing down the back of his shirt. Absentmindedly, he wonders if the tattoo is of something amazing or something incredibly stupid.

Yes, this man must be the poster boy for Hot Topic. He probably cried when My Chemical Romance broke up.

“What the fuck’s _your_ problem coming into _my_ store and swearing?” Lance hisses quietly because a customer or two are already in the store even though it is early in the morning. He spots his co-worker Hunk neatening up the shelves, pretending not to listen though Lance can easily tell he is.

“First of all, this is not your store, you just work here--”

“Well, I would have said the opposite for you. Clearly, you must own Hot Topic; you’re perfect for it.”

There’s a dangerous flash in the man’s gray eyes, but Lance simply smirks. It’s always been his gift to annoy people. “Second of all,” the worker continues, “You just swore too. So we’re even on that one.”

“I suppose we are.”

They stand there like idiots, unknowingly staring into each others eyes, and Hunk has to ring up one of the customers Lance is oblivious too. He crosses his arms waiting for Mr. Hot Topic to leave his store. “So was there any other reason to why you stepped in here or can you please leave now?”

“I--”

“I think you should get back to your emo store, sir. As you can see, I have a lot of customers to attend to.” Lance wildly gestures to the empty store that buzzes with electricity. Well, that’s awkward.

“Fuck you,” the man tries to mutter, but it comes out sharp and piercing, and if Lance’s manager was in the store today, this man probably would have been thrown out on his ass.

“You seem to have a lot of pent up anger and aggression,” Lance calmly begins as the man proceeds to stomp out of the store. “I recommend a bath bomb. We’re having a sale.”

The man hesitates; he’s almost entirely out of the store, but his feet begin to move backwards as his body turns around. For one moment, Lance believes the man will actually take him up on his offer--which Lance wouldn’t be entirely against. This man definitely needs to experience some peace and quiet and relaxation while sitting in a bathtub, maybe while even reading a book.

Instead, Mr. Hot Topic sends him the finger and finishes his journey back to his hell hole.

“Have a nice day to you too,” Lance mutters and proceeds to be lectured on proper employee etiquette by Hunk.

* * *

Lance isn’t sure how he got here. Maybe it was fate; maybe it was free will. Scratch that, definitely not free will. But either way Lance finds himself standing outside of Hot Topic, rocking back and forth on his feet. It’s Friday and it’s almost time for LUSH to close, and yet here Lance is across from his store, leaving Hunk to handle the register by himself.

He sucks in a breath and steels himself as he walks into the darkness. After all, his mother didn’t raise a whimp. The music, probably MCR or Panic! at the Disco or Fall Out Boy, immediately berates his ears as soon as he’s past the threshold, causing him to wince while his eyes adjust to the darkness.

It’s so cramped with too much merchandise and not enough space to move around to browse. His eyes are eventually drawn to the anime section and then the Marvel and DC area but he has to remind his inner fanboy that he’s not here for himself. Dios, he would never be willingly here for himself.

Even doing this selfless act for his friend is breaking his cardinal rule.          

“Is there anything I can help you with?” a deep voice says at his back and he whips around. Lance finds himself scowling again. “Oh it’s you.”

“You don’t have to sound disappointed... uhh Keith,” Lance replies, squinting to read the man’s nametag. He wonders why he didn’t bother to find out the man’s name sooner.

Oh yeah, that’s right, he didn’t care.  

“If you’re here, it can’t be a good thing. I can only picture you in Starbucks ordering some ridiculous drink that’s probably a hundred percent sugar…. Lance.” Keith’s own eyes pear at Lance’s own nametag.

Somehow they’ve phased towards the back and customers and other employees filter around them. “If we’re playing that game, then I definitely see you at home, with no friends, trying to decide how thick your eyeliner should be while listening to something really emo.”

Keith is, in fact, not wearing any eyeliner, but Lance ignores that fact.

“Wow, that’s spot on,” Keith deadpans.

“Really?”

“No.”

“But I had to be close, right? I mean what else could a person working at Hot Topic do when they’re not in this hell hole.”

Keith rolls his eyes; even in the low lighting, Lance can pick out lavender hues swimming in his gray irises. He’s never noticed that before. It looks nice, a unique color combination.

“Why are you here?” Keith asks, a little terse but still friendly.

“I need a present for my friend. They’re into superhero stuff lately. Got any Deadpool shirts?”

Instead of speaking right away, Keith lazily points in the direction of the front of the store. “You’ll find them over there,” and he promptly walks away, vanishing through an ‘employee only’ door.

“Wow, great customer service here.”

* * *

It takes the tenth time of Lance slurping at his empty smoothie cup for Pidge to grab the drink out of his hand. “Stop that.”

“Sorry,” he sheepishly replies, carding a hand through his hair. Locks slowly fall back onto his forehead, landing with a gentle thump. A soft gust of wind generated from the impact flutters across his cheekbones. His hair is almost too long now; he really needs to get it trimmed.

“So thanks for the birthday gift,” Pidge says, pulling lightly at their clothes, specifically the gray Deadpool shirt he bought them. He smiles a little, happy his friend liked his gift. With their free hand, Pidge absentmindedly fiddles with the top of the straw. Lance is so glad he finished that; he doesn’t know where their hands have been or if they’ve washed them after going to the bathroom. Disgust winds its way onto his features. Lance suspects Pidge has, but he can never be too careful. “I still can’t believe you went to Hot Topic for me,” they continue and there are fake tears in Pidge’s eyes and a fake sob attached to their words.

“Shut up. I only did it because I love you.”

“Ew gross,” Pidge laughs.

“Platonically of course,” Lance adds on, sending them a cheeky grin.

“That’s more like it, but seriously, I still can’t believe it. _The_ Lance McClain in Hot Topic.”

“It wasn’t that bad, I guess.”

“You guess? Well Hunk _has_ been telling me some interesting things lately.” They adjust their glasses; amber pools pierce Lance’s skin.

He leans on the table, grimacing slightly from the slight film of stickiness that almost covers the entire surface. It’s too loud in the food court but the smell is heavenly. Practically every scent tickles his nose as his head swivels from side to side trying to find the source that’s more paramount than all the others. He’s beginning to crave fries. “Like what?”

“Like how there’s a guy that you seem to be pining after, who just happens to work at Hot Topic right across from LUSH.”

“I am not pining over Keith!” Lance practically screams until Pidge shushes him with a swift kick to his legs. The people sitting at the table near them don’t even turn their head. Lance swallows the pain that slowly dissipates after a few seconds. They’re strong for someone so small.

“Oh, you know his name and _remembered_ it? Yeah this is more serious than I thought,” Pidge mutters, taking a sip of Lance’s drink, briefly forgetting that it wasn’t theirs and that it was empty.

“I’m not pining,” Lance grumbles, this time more quietly but there is still some semblance of harshness penetrating his tone. His glare only hardens but Pidge is anything but phased.

“ _Please_ , Hunk’s been telling me that all you do is gaze out the store window. Usually you’re all about checking out the new products that got shipped in.”

Frowning, his gaze lowers to a spot on the table. A few crumbs litter the surface and he flicks some to the ground, watching with a strange sort of fascination at how far they bounce away from him. Lance is going to have to talk to Hunk about this spying thing because he doesn’t appreciate how it’s not being done to benefit him. “I don’t stare at him all the time.”

They cock an eyebrow that clearly expresses the words ‘ _oh, really_?’ “What did he look like today?”

“Red flannel with his Hot Topic t-shirt and his hair was loose,” Lance states back automatically. “ _Fuck_.”     

“Mhmm.”

“But I hate him; he’s an asshole.”

“My observation is that this is the first stage of your fledgling crush and I wouldn’t doubt that by the end of the month you two will be holding hands,” Pidge comments, standing up from the table. Lance follows their lead. “But I do have to ask you, who was the asshole first?”

_Fuck_

* * *

He does not have a crush on Keith.

~~He does~~

They will definitely not be holding hands by the end of the month. Lance bets that Keith’s palms are sweaty anyways. Yet Pidge's predictions always have a horrifying way of coming true. They are never wrong and they always win.

Lance’s shoulder’s slump as he continues to walk home. It’s still light out, his shift having ended earlier than his normal ones. It was an odd time to be out of work, too early to eat dinner but too late to stop for a snack.

For some reason the inbetween time always puts Lance in a sour mood. This time of the day, with nothing to do, forces him to complete any college assignments he has waiting for him back at his apartment. But during this time of year all he has is studying for finals and some last minute essays, and his body physically winces just at the thought.   

Notes and textbooks already litter his coffee table and kitchen. He’s not quite ready to memorize all those formulas with their complex ingredients and long winded names. Maybe he should stop off at CVS to pick up flashcards. He doubts he has any leftover from midterms.

Lance is about to turn, his foot already dragging across the concrete, when he spots a familiar head of hair. The man, hunched over and trying to block the sun from the screen of his phone, leans against the bus terminal, apparently waiting to be picked up.

_There is no way I have a crush on this guy._

“And here I thought you were the type of person who owned a motorcycle,” Lance says upon walking over to Keith.

Momentarily confused, he blinks, a small pout on his face. “I-I do? I mean, I do. It’s in the shop though.”

“Oh, okay.” Well, at least Lance is still excellent at reading people. He tries not to get caught up in the way Keith brushes a few locks of hair behind his ear. The strands are too short though and they end up falling back to where they originated.

“You take the bus? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Nah,” Lance replies, quietly wondering why they’re continuing to engage in a conversation. “I usually walk home and I usually have a longer shift than this. The boss thought it would be better to give me shorter work hours ‘cause of finals coming up soon.” He ends with a shrug.

“You’re in college?” Keith asks, a little surprised and maybe a little…. envious?

“What? Do I really look that _old_ to you? We’re probably the same age. Are _you_ not in college?”

Keith frowns, those purple irises darkening a fraction and Lance wonders how big of a nerve he just may have hit. “I wouldn’t have enough money to pay for it even if I wanted to.”

The bluntness catches Lance off guard. His tongue becomes caught; it pounds against the back of his teeth, wanting to say something but the words won’t come to him. He stares blankly at the man like an idiot. The words ‘I’m sorry’ begin to form.

“You don’t have to say anything; it’s better than receiving pity. And yes, I’m actually happy with my situation.” The tension that had crackled around them, slowly descending down as a heavy blanket, loosens slightly. The emotion in Keith’s eyes becomes less hostile and fades to his normal look, which wasn’t always as friendly as it could be.

Lance almost smacks himself because of what he says next--and after it’s all said and done, he’s not sure why he said it, but in the moment it felt right. “You know, you should really try a bath bomb. They're really relaxing.” 

Keith, possibly confused and probably dumbstruck, watches Lance with wide eyes. He can tell Keith parts his lips to speak, but his words are lost as the bus creaks to a stop. They both jump, neither of them having been conscious to their surroundings. Lance is left alone after that, but not entirely alone.

There had been a small smile trickling onto Keith’s face as he walked aboard the city bus.

It stays in Lance’s memory during his lonely walk home.

Lance totally does not have a crush.

~~Well, maybe he does~~

* * *

He’s doing it again, staring out the window--even though he can’t see Keith at all--and accidently ignores a customer until he hears a familiar voice. “I knew you would be shit at this job.”

Jumping in place, Lance awkwardly swivels in place to find Keith wracking his fingernails across the counter. A retort easily balances itself on the tip of his tongue; part of it is overlaid with confusion though because why would a guy like Keith ever step foot into this store. A few seconds pass before Lance sees the bigger picture. Surprisingly, a bath bomb is placed in front of him. A different emotion is suppressed in the quirk of Keith’s lips as he unabashedly stares at Lance.

“W-what are you doing here?” Lance briefly sutters and then mentally berates himself for it.

“I’m on my lunch break.”

“And?”

“And I decided to take you up on your offer.”

 _What offer,_ he wants to--should--ask, but unfortunately for him, he has somehow memorized every conversation they’ve ever had and every stupid thing he has ever done. Which is quite impressive for Lance who can’t remember what he had for dinner last night. Lance remains motionless, his tongue lead and his mouth tasting of sand. “W-why?” _Don’t think of your attraction to him, don’t think of your attraction to him._

_Oh fuck, is his hair actually braided?_

_Abort, abort, abort_

Keith picks up the bath bomb, studying it as he turns it in his hands. Lance’s gaze is caught up in the man’s hair though, and he’s silently begging Keith to turn his head a little so he can stare in wonder at that french braid. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Finally, Lance seems to find his voice. “Well you won’t be disappointed with that one. Just a warning though, you’ll be covered in glitter.”

Intrigued, Keith’s eyes light up. They would have been two bright flashlights if this store’s lights were off. “Hmm, seems like I picked a good one.”

Lance snatches the item from Keith’s hand, scanning it as fast as he can. _Don’t think about him covered in glitter. Definitely do not think about him naked and covered in glitter._ “This one is my all time favorite,” Lance adds as he hands the bagged purchase back to Keith.

A faint blush dusts the tips of Keith’s cheek bones; that wasn’t there before. “Thanks,” he says quickly, walking away with purpose as he allows his bangs to cover most of his retreating blush.

Lance stares at the man, the way his body moves and hips slightly sway. Captivated, Lance is captivated. That’s the only way to describe it. He wants to understand this man, learn what makes Keith tick, and just be in his company.  

“Hey wait!” Lance hurriedly calls out. Keith stops with a jerky halt, patting his back pocket as if believing he forgot his wallet. A confused gaze lands on Lance. “I-I’m sorry for being an asshole, when you waved…”

The way Keith’s whole demeanor changes does not go unnoticed by Lance. His rigid posture relaxes and his usual serious expression is replaced with a more natural smile, one that is probably only used around people he considers to be his close friends. The sight does something strange to Lance’s little bi heart. “Oh, well I’m sorry that I was an asshole back to you.”

Lance’s scowl is forever replaced with a grin.

* * *

“Hey, is that Keith?” Hunk immediately points out as Lance walks away from one of the food stands in the food court. His precious fries and a burger balance on a red tray that begins to wobble the minute the Hot Topic employee's name leaves Hunk’s lips.

“Wai--”

But Lance’s friend is already striding over to where Keith sits alone, picking at a pretty pathetic salad. “Mind if we sit with you?” Hunk asks politely, but Lance has already accepted this embarrassment and plops himself down across from Keith before he even looks up.

Keith’s gaze flickers to Lance. “Y-yeah, I guess.”

“Cool, thanks man.” Hunk takes a seat next to Lance, his eyes boring into his friend as he subtly flicks his head in Keith’s direction. ‘Talk to him,’ Hunk mouths.

Lance pretends not to notice.

They eat in silence for a few minutes before Lance’s leg begins to jitter from the lack of conversation and from the awkward silence that definitely isn’t there but Lance believes it is. He brandishes a long french fire at Keith. “I didn’t peg you to be a vegetarian.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh.” So much for trying to start a conversation.

Keith glances up again hesitantly, as if he wants to say more. As if he wants to keep talking… to Lance specifically. “I forgot my lunch at home, and I didn’t bring enough money for much else.”

“Want a french fry or two?” Without an answer, Lance is already pushing his tray closer to Keith. He sees the reluctance in Keith’s gaze. “Go for it.”

A small, wonderful smile graces his lips he picks up a fry and plops it in his mouth. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Lance rattles off the next thought in his head, not giving it enough time to pass inspection. “We’re playing twenty questions. I can’t have you staying a mystery for too much longer.”

“I could say the same about you.”

During a certain point, and after many questions have already passed both Lance’s and Keith’s lips, Hunk leaves Lance alone. He doesn’t notice, too engrossed in whatever Keith had been telling him about his moronic brother who can’t cook to save his life. A far too happy laugh leaves Lance’s body, tumbling off his lips. His eyes are closed and he throws his head back. When his laugh finally fades away to giggles, he realizes Keith had joined in. Disappointment wells up inside him. He missed Keith’s laugh, only catching the end of the sweet sound.

“How did you survive for so long?” Lance asks, genuinely interested.

“As soon as I could reach the stove, I taught myself how to cook. If I didn’t, we would still be living on Chinese food takeout and pizza delivery.”

Keith has never said it but Lance has the sense that this man across from him is an orphan who was lucky enough to have found a new family with Shiro. He hadn’t been alone for too long; that thought has Lance already thanking Shiro though they have never met and probably never will.  

Lance grins, stupidly. “My mamá is starting to teach me a few meals from her secret family recipes; I haven’t set the kitchen on fire yet so I guess I’m doing okay.”

This receives a small chuckle from Keith, but Lance is dying to make him laugh again for real. “I bet you’re a good cook.”

“You’ll just have to try my food to find out, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

_Wait, what just happened?_

* * *

His brain is filled with Keith’s voice and his appearance and the way Keith’s hands moved while he talked and the way his eyes gleamed as he began to tell a story and how this very stoic person seemed to effortlessly fill his stories with almost every kind of emotion. Lance only left Keith a few minutes ago, and already longing for his presence is an issue. But this is all swept away the minute Lance watches Hunk walk back into LUSH, a pleased smile etched onto his face.

Guilt screams inside Lance’s head.

“I’m sorry we didn’t really include you in the conversation,” he apologizes immediately, his eyes downcast. Lance scrambles over the counter, meeting Hunk halfway and firmly planting his hands on his friend's shoulders. He had been a terrible friend, and usually, Lance is adamant about including everyone, but yet when he was talking with Keith, he didn’t even remember his friend had sat down with him.

Lance chews his bottom lip while searching his friend’s eyes for any hurt he might have caused.

Hunk waves away Lance’s guilty expression as another easy smile winds its way onto his face. “Don’t worry about it; it was all part of my plan.” Lance nods in relief and returns to a task he should have completed a few hours ago. The box he carries weighs down his arms and he awkwardly waddled over to the shelves, wondering briefly why he didn’t take the cart.

Once Lance is relaxed with the box of merchandise pressed between his stomach and the shelf, Hunk speaks up again a few moments later. “So how did the first date go?”

He pauses, a precious bath bomb dangling in between his fingers and the shelf he is stocking it on. With eyes blown wide, he blushes as he yells “It’s wasn’t a date!”

The box slips and lands on the ground with a large bang; a clearly visible wince from Lance quickly follows.

* * *

“Oh, it was totally a date,” Pidge confirms upon walking into LUSH. It has been approximately five days since the date-not-date and Lance and Keith have eaten lunch together almost everyday since. On days where their shifts don’t match up perfectly, they share only snippets of conversations and brief looks out the window (from Lance) when Keith’s fixing up the store front.

“Not you too.” Lance plays with his hair, tugging at the long strands that now brush just above his vision and wrapping a few locks around his finger. Yeah, he really needs to get it cut.

“You need some support, Lance, and a harsh kick in the ass, because there is no way you’ll be brave enough to make a move without us.”

 _I have game!_ he wants to reply, but instead he goes for the easier “What makes you think I even want to make a move?”

They obnoxiously roll their eyes. “We had this talk before; I’m not repeating it.” Pidge hops up on the counter and refuses to acknowledge Lance’s distress. He lightly slaps them on the back.

“Get off! What if a customer comes in?”

“Please, it’s almost ten o’clock at night, no one shops at this time.” Suddenly, Pidge jumps down from the counter, eyes alight behind their wire framed glasses and a mischievous smirk plastered on their pale skin. “Look who comes this way,” Pidge practically sings and darts further off into the store, disappearing from Lance’s vision.

Is it bad that Lance knows exactly who they’re talking about without glancing upward at the figure casually walking into his store?

It probably is.

Has he really fallen this deep?

Lance’s favorite employee had been missing in action all day today and the lack of their usual routine had made him antsy and unfocused. Yet, here Keith is, his steps evenly paced and his eyes never flickering from the checkout counter where Lance stands. A rare smile softens his features, and as the man angles his head forward slightly, Lance catches a few sprinkles of glitter trapped in his inky locks. They shimmer in the bright lights of the store. It’s a good look for him.

“I see you used the bath bomb; here for another one?” Lance steps away from the counter to properly greet him.

Subconsciously, Keith paws at his sparkling hair, a little embarrassed. A tiny bit of blush begins to form on his pale skin, highlighting his sharp cheekbones. Lance only smiles. “Y-yeah, it was great actually. I-I was wondering if you would recommend any others?”

“That’s why I work at LUSH, isn’t it?”

Keith only smiles in return, following Lance deeper into the store.

(Later, Lance will walk away from the end of his shift with blush on his cheeks and a new phone number saved into his contacts)

* * *

**[Keith]**

>i did not give you my number for you to already be sending dick pics

 

**[Lance]**

>first that pic was not supposed to be sent to you

>second of all my private parts were completely covered asshole

 

**[Keith]**

>i woke up at 2am to see a pic of you in the bath

>i didn’t realize that’s how fast we were going

 

**[Lance]**

>so what you’re telling me is that you like what you saw

> ;)

 

**[Keith]**

>no comment

>nice bath bomb tho

 

**[Lance]**

>maybe next time we can save money and just share one together

 

**[Keith]**

>why are you not this smooth in real life

 

**[Lance]**

>i resent that

>asshole

>lance mcclain is as smooth as butter

>....

>wait

>was that a yes?

 

**[Keith]**

>that’s a horrible comparison

>if you can say it to my face without blushing then yes

 

**[Lance]**

>i fucking hate you

 

**[Keith]**

>tho i do like to be taken out to dinner first

>just an fyi

>[image attached]

>payback’s a bitch

* * *

Lance tries not to dwell on the fact that he sent a practically nude picture to Keith by accident--he was attempting to show off the new bath bomb to Hunk. Stupid iPhone. He also tries not to think about the date the two of them might have just planned. But most of all, Lance definitely tries to forget about the fact that Keith sent Lance a selfie of himself shirtless to enact revenge--holy shit that man is built like Greek deity with his toned muscles and six-pack and the V that disappeared into the waistband of his sweatpants, leaving Lance only wanting more.

All of this is in vain though and somehow it invades Lance’s thoughts for the rest of the night, worming its way into his dreams, seeping into the air tight cracks, and suffocating him.

His dream of walking through the mall in the dead of night is soon replaced with soft, cool sheets against his back and hot hands roaming over his body. Lance sighs as he leans into the touch, quite pleased with the change of direction his uncontrollable mind has caused.

He’s naked and Keith arches over him, his body lean and toned. The ink from that tattoo curls around his neck and a little onto his shoulders; it has Lance lightly trailing a finger over the visible design, still not knowing what the whole picture is. Sweat rolls down Keith’s skin in little beads, sometimes collecting in his collarbone and sometimes traveling far enough to disappear into his underwear.

“You’re not naked,” Lance mumbles, not quite in control of his movements not that he minds. He palms Keith’s growing hardness, and a brief moan--one that will haunt Lance when he wakes--echoes in his ears. He almost comes on the sound alone, the heat coiling tighter and tighter. Instead he bites his lips, his eyes half lidded as Keith leans down to whisper in his ear.

His voice is gentle and sultry, and the ends of his hair brush Lance’s cheek. “It’s unfair, isn’t it?” He presses kisses onto Lance’s dark skin, sucking slightly on every patch of available skin he can find. Lance’s neck will be littered with hickies tomorrow, but not really because a part of him remembers this isn’t real.

Lance wants to return the favor, but he’s occupied with tugging at the waistband of Keith’s boxers, which are neon pink for some reason and Lance just chalks this weird detail up as his crazy mind’s fault. “I will rip these off you.” He lifts his back off the bed to nip at Keith’s lips, tugging on the soft skin.

“Please do.”

There’s a moment a couple of minutes (or seconds in this dream realm) later when Lance loses all thought and all he remembers is screaming Keith’s name and his fingernails scratching the pale skin of his lover’s back. It’s a dream, though, and his imagination can only run so far. Lance blacks out for a second and the picture returns with a slightly sweatier Keith next to him.

“How was that?” Keith cheekily as well as breathlessly asks, and Lance wines his name instead of answering.

In their afterglow, Lance snuggles up next to Keith, their bare legs entangling, and he mumbles something that suspiciously sounds like “I love you.” It rolls off his tongue as if he has spoken it a million times and maybe in this dream world he has.

Keith’s fingers lazily draw invisible patterns on Lance’s bare skin. “Lance, Lance,” Keith begins, “I--”

When Lance wakes up with soiled underwear and an almost undetectable hardness in his pants, he lies still on the bed, his chest hastily rising and falling with every deep breath. Wide eyes stare at the white ceiling and the little glow-in-the-dark stars that shine against the blank canvas. His alarm clock reads 4:30am and his earliest class does not begin until nine.

The cold water streaming down his body from an early morning shower does little to alleviate Lance of his dream.

* * *

There are many flashcards clutched into his hand as Lance meanders through the food court, wanting something but also not hungry enough to decide on what to eat. It’s an odd place to find himself in; he’s had the same feeling all day, causing him to be too jittery to focus on his finals.

The change of scenery has done nothing to ease Lance of this pain, and soon a familiar quiet mantra weaves its way to the front of Lance’s mind.

_Don’t think about the dream; don’t think about the dream_

Then Lance spots Keith sitting at a table not too far away and he realizes how catastrophic it was of him to pick the mall as a new study area. The chemical formulas are pushed deep inside his coat pocket as he reluctantly wanders closer to Keith’s lonely table.

"What are you listening too?" he asks once he’s closer and can see two white earbuds poking through Keith’s mess of black hair.

Wordlessly and without even glancing upwards, Keith holds out one earbud and Lance takes it without hesitation.

_"I'm a loose bolt of a complete machine_

_What a match, I'm half doomed and you're semi-sweet_

_Boycott love_

_Detox just to retox_

_And I'd promise you anything for another shot at life_

_And perfect boys with their perfect lives_

_Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy"_

"What is this?" Lance whispers breathlessly. He fumbles for Keith's iPhone resting comfortably on the table. His mind briefly stutters when he realizes Keith’s phone opens directly on their text conversation they started this morning but unfortunately had to stop due to Lance’s phone dying.

It had gone like this:

**[Lance]**

>did you fall asleep thinking of me?

>good morning<3

 

**[Keith]**

>no, but i think you did

 

**[Lance]**

>absolutely not!

 

**[Keith]**

>it’s been a few days and i’m still waiting to be asked out

>i’m going to ask you out soon if you don’t get a move on

 

**[Lance]**

>nope no nope

>not gonna happen pretty boy

>you told me i couldn’t blush when i ask

>so i’m practicing

 

**[Keith]**

>in front of a mirror?

 

**[Lance]**

>yes

>bc i can’t practice in front of you now can i

 

**[Keith]**

>i was joking

>please just ask me on a date

>i’m dying here

 

**[Lance]**

>i can never back down from a challenge

>intentional or not

>this is all your fault

>i won’t have you waiting too long

 

**[Keith]**

>looking forward to it <333

 

**[Lance]**

>did keith just use the heart emoji???

>i’m dead

>pls tell my family i lived a good life and died happily

 

**[Keith]**

>if your dead than how can you still text?

 

**[Lance]**

>*you’re

>and shut up

It takes a few seconds for Lance to remember he was looking for something completely different than taking a trip down memory lane. "What the fuck does this title have to do with the song?"

"That's the beauty of old Fall Out Boy songs," Keith responds, eyes finally lifting from the table and locking onto Lance.  

His nose crinkles. "Yeah but Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes?"

"S-shut up. It's my favorite song." There’s that embarrassed blush again; it has traveled to his ears, and for the second time that day Lance dies. That pout is fucking adorable and should be illegal.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Lance can’t help but laugh at his expression. "Hey, I'm not bashing the song; I actually kinda like it..."

"Oh, really?"

"Y-yeah."

Keith smirks as he leans closer, lips inches away from his ear as he whispers “Closet Fall Out Boy fan.”

“I am not!” Lance protests, sputtering slightly because his youtube history would reveal his lie.

The smirk grows wider. Leaning back, Keith brushes his bangs away, but the sudden movement tugs the earbud out of Lance’s ear. The music drains from his mind as the earbud falls in the space between them. “I bet you listen to Panic! at the Disco too.”

“Fuck no; if you ever see me listening to that shit call an ambulance ‘cause I’ve gone crazy.”

A wave of warmth suddenly spreads through Lance that he is barely conscious enough to realize Keith’s hand is on top of his, but not purposefully though. It’s as if he’s trying to--

“Can I have my phone back?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Right, right sorry.”  

“I missed you today at work,” Keith mumbles quietly and Lance almost doesn’t hear his words.

“I missed you too; studying sucks.”

The stack of flashcards lands with a smack on the table; it becomes the loudest sound in the whole food court for one long second. Keith only stares at the pile while Lance begins to grumble about stupid teachers with their stupid tests and stupid college with their stupid finals.

“Want me to test you?” Keith asks gingerly picking up a flashcard and squints at Lance’s tiny, messy scribble. “I mean, I was always better at art but I--”

“Yes, please help me!”  

“O-okay,” Keith says in a low chuckle and his voice soon soothes all of Lance’s worries as he begins to read off the card.

(Keith’s hand never leaves Lance’s throughout their whole time together)

* * *

**[Keith]**

>shiro wants to meet you at some point

>in the distant future

>but idk why

>it’s not like we’re _dating_

 

**[Lance]**

>yeah yeah yeah

>i’ll ask you out after exams

 

**[Keith]**

>i’m holding you to that

 

**[Lance]**

>wait

>does this mean you gush about me all the time to your big bro

 

**[Keith]**

>idk how you come up with these crazy ideas

 

**[Lance]**

>i am so right

>and you know it

 

**[Keith]**

>good luck on your exams

> <3

 

**[Lance]**

>another heart emoji???

>i feel so blessed

>i’m dead again

>you killed me keith

>guess i can’t take my exams

 

**[Keith]**

>go back to studying, idiot

* * *

"You got a haircut," Keith states tugging on a lock of Lance's hair. He angles his head as Keith continues to thread his fingers through his short hair. There’s a purr trapped at the back of his throat, but Lance is not a cat so he hopes the sound doesn’t escape from its prison.

“Do you notice anything else?”

Keith cocks his head; his long bangs hide most of his eyes. His hair is tied back again, the shorter strands having fallen from their hold, and Lance itches to tug the hair tie out. “Well you are pretty happy today.”

Lance sits on the counter, his head practically leaning against Keith’s shoulder. He hopes his manager doesn’t walk in. This is a definite no-no, but no customers are in right now so who really cares.

“Mmmhmm.”

“Did you pass your final?” Keith guesses. Footsteps shatter their peaceful world and Keith jerks back. Lance is about to hop off the counter, but it’s only Hunk. He nods at his friend who disappears to the back of the store but not before sending Lance a subtle thumbs up.

“You bet I did. Not to brag but I got an A minus.”

“And here you wanted to blow it off because you were so worried,” Keith lightly teases, a large smile on his face. “Congrats by the way.”

“It’s all thanks to you, though. I was about to throw myself off a cliff until I saw you in the court.” Lance is a little disappointed Keith has stopped playing with his hair, but he retaliates by hooking his legs around Keith, thus trapping him.

“People have said this is a face of hope,” Keith deadpans while gesturing to his face, a cheeky expression on his lips.

Chuckling, Lance rests his forehead against Keith, their bodies closer now. “Then they would be right.” A pause fills their small, private space before Lance finds the thought he’s going to say aloud. “You get a reward for helping me.”

“I do?”

The minute his words fade from the air, Lance places a chaset kiss on Keith’s lips.

* * *

It’s a few days after his last final that Lance finally finds the courage he’s been looking for. He’s on the steps of his parent’s house. His knuckles barely touch the wood of the door when a woman flings it open.

His mother is there in all her glory. With her wavy hair, just starting to frizz in these early summer days, and her blue eyes that mirror Lance’s own, sparkling in every way and showing every emotion she’s feeling in that moment. Her dark skin has a few more wrinkles than the last time he saw her and there might be a strand or two of gray hair in her chocolate locks.    

“Lance, mijo, what are you doing home?” his mother asks, as she crushes him in a long overdue hug. He bends down, saving her from stretching to reach his shoulders. Most of his siblings, like him, got their height from their father. Lance always felt bad that his mother was the shortest amongst them.

“I needed to get something.”

“Never just to say hi? How are you doing? Your brother’s graduating high school next month and you better be there,” she rambles, gesturing for him to follow into the kitchen. There are still a bunch of old crayon drawings fastened to the fridge even though every McClain has outgrown those days.

“I’m sorry, mamá, but college had me whipped. And don’t worry, I’ll be there for my baby bro.”

“I heard you passed all your finals. I’m so proud of you.” She hugs him again, and he tries not to indulge in his feelings of wanting to move back home and enjoy this every day.

“Thank you,” Lance squeaks.

“So what do you need?” His mother raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the granite counter and crossing her arms.

Lance holds in a breath. “I want your recipe for picadillo.”

“And why is this? I don’t lend those out to just anybody,” but she’s already turning around to find her recipe box that is usually tucked away in some drawer.

“I know, mamá, but I need-- _want_ to impress someone.”

The box is blue and worn and Lance once decorated the cover in miniature lions with a skill only a five year old child can possess. He’s flipped through that little box so many times as a child. “I will only give it to you if I get to meet…”

“Keith, his name is Keith. And you will; we just actually need to have a first date first,” Lance ends with a laugh, taking the stained card from his mother’s outstretched hand. The directions are written in Spanish and Lance smiles as his hands trail over his native language in his mother’s familiar script. He’s missed not being able to speak it every day.

“This boy better treat you right, mijo, and you better treat him right in return.”

“He does and I do; don’t you worry about that.”

* * *

“I’m surprised you’re in here again,” Keith smirks.

It’s still dark and loud music plays from some hidden speaker. There are a few customers littered throughout the tiny space but they’re trapped in their own little world, not bothering to pay attention to a simple cashier and a customer.  

Lance still hates this store even if he doesn’t--definitely doesn’t--hate Keith anymore. “Yeah, yeah,” Lance mumbles. He places a Guardians shirt on the counter and Rocket stares up at him as if mocking him for slowly losing every ounce of courage he gained just by walking into this store.

“Is this everything?”

“No.”

“Okay, bu--”

“Would you like to share a bath bomb with me? As in we’ll both be naked and probably have sex after but I’ll treat you to my cooking first,” Lance rambles, spitting the words out as fast as he can. He prays that heat hasn’t spread to his cheeks yet. He needs to win this challenge that he set for himself, but he can already feel it though, tickling at his neck and ears.

Keith, the asshole that he is, breaks down, laughing so hard that he has to lay his head on the counter to muffle the noise. Lance almost wants to call the paramedics. Those few customers finally turn their heads. “T-that’s g-good. Oh my God, I didn’t think you would actually say it, but I’m very glad you did,” Keith finishes with a very irritating smirk.  

“So is that a yes?”

“You still failed; your face is so beat red right now.” Keith pauses, gazing at Lance with a fond expression as mirth sparkles into his eyes while his smirk becomes a very beautiful smile. “Yes, Lance. That sounds like a perfect date.”

(At the end of the week, Lance’s dream becomes a reality, a really wonderful reality)

* * *

**_4 Years Later_ **

* * *

 

**[Lance]**

>hope you’re having fun at work babe<3

>best art teacher ever

>but

>when are you going to propose

>bc at the rate you’re going

>i’ll be 70

 

**[Keith]**

>i gave you like 3 weeks to ask me out on our first date

>i deserve some time to pepare

>*prepare

>and aren’t you supposed to be working on something important for NASA

 

**[Lance]**

>do you have to bring that up almost every time?

>i didn’t take that long

>you’re exaggerating

>on my lunch break like you

 

**[Keith]**

>pidge says it’s mandatory if i’m to stay their friend

>i'm not exaggerating

>ok maybe a little bit

>just slightly tho

 

**[Lance]**

>i hate you

 

**[Keith]**

>mmhmm

>that kinda contradicts what you told me this morning

>btw i’m gonna buy some bath bombs on the way home

>we're running low

 

**[Lance]**

>you always know the way to my heart

>oh and just in case you start to get nervous

>about this whole proposal thing

>my answer will and will always be yes

**Author's Note:**

> Some extra stuff (bc I’m too lazy to write anymore):  
> -In the 4 years, Lance graduated and got a job at NASA, and Keith decided to go to night school and get a degree in art (the only thing he liked during high school) and then became a teacher  
> -Lance did end up meeting Shiro after a few dates during their first year and he basically blessed their possible future union on the spot because he was so happy Keith had found someone like Lance  
> -Contrary to what Lance says, it did not take long for Keith to propose, in fact he does it the night of their text conversation. Lance cried even though he knew it was coming  
> -Many more happy tears were shed at their wedding and Keith gained an even larger family  
> -A few years later, they adopted a baby girl and their family was finally complete
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos:)


End file.
